


The Melancholy of Sam Winchester

by thorkiship18



Series: One-Shots [56]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Caring Dean Winchester, Depressed Sam Winchester, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Drunk Sam Winchester, Drunken Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Melancholy, Past Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/pseuds/thorkiship18
Summary: Dean has cared for Sammy all his life, because that's what big brothers do. They look after their careless, reckless little brothers. And even if they're in their 30's and drunk as skunks, big brothers still care for their punk little brothers.(Or, the one where Dean finds Sam drunk as hell and has a little moment with him.)





	The Melancholy of Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii lol.

Dean had gone to bed earlier than he cared to admit. He was just too damn tired after that stressful haunting. His back was killing him from being tossed wall to wall by the angry spirit, and he spent nearly 30 minutes tossing and turning in the bed before finally drifting off in a somewhat peaceful sleep.

However, his rest would not last very long.

At precisely 2:47 in the morning, Dean heard a loud crash coming from somewhere in the bunker. It was enough to startle Dean out if his slumber, causing him to flail about until he found himself on the cold floor in his underwear.

He scanned the surrounding area; even in the dark, Dean could make the room perfectly. He groaned, using the bed as leverage to pull himself up. Rubbing his eyes, Dean patted the mattress until his hand slipped under his pillow, pulling out his trusty pistol. As it was, the other side of the bed was empty; cold from misuse.

Sam was out and about, up and around.

Dean sighed, switching his panic mode to off. Still, it was better to not let his guard down. Awful things had happened in that bunker more often than not. A kidnapping, assault, a shoot out, another kidnapping. They were so susceptible to all these things that Dean often thought that maybe this place they called home was not so safe anymore.

Nevertheless, he pulled himself together prior to opening the bedroom door. Once in the hallway, Dean heard the faint sounds of someone singing. He recognized the voice right away and stowed his gun away in his boxers as he quickly roamed the bunker.

Dean followed the voice to its source, the library, finding the most odd and unusual sight of the year.

Obviously, the loud crash came from Sammy; Dean could tell from the broken glass on the floor. Yet that's not what immediately caught his attention. It was Sam sitting on the long, wooden table, socks and shoes gone and forgotten in only his jeans--which were unbuttoned and unzipped for some unknown reason--and over shirt. Sam must have foregone an undershirt earlier, because Dean can see his bare chest, slivers of dark brown hair litter the torso from pectorals trailing to abdomen.

Dean's tongue had followed the path that led below the belt many times before, so it took every inch of him to relax himself and take in the sight to assess the situation.

Judging by his loud, off-key singing and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting next to his brother, Dean deduced that Sam was, indeed, drunk off his ass.

It had been a long time since the elder Winchester brother witnessed such levels of drunk in Sam. It was almost shocking to see it happen again, now when they're older and more experienced with the effects of alcohol.

Dean wished he had his camera. He would've never let Sammy live it down. But for all their brotherly antics, he knew that getting Sam to bed was most important. And so, Dean made his presence known, leaning against the archway of the library.

"That's quite the concert you have going on there."

Sam snorted, not jumpy in the slightest. His movements were loose, and his smile was laced with underlying, filthy, dirty intentions.

"Does that mean you're my number one fan, Dee?"

The words are slurred, but Dean still showed a slight reaction to the childhood nickname. Sometimes, he could still see Sam as the babbling toddler who pissed himself and mumbled words that made no sense.

Other times, like now, he could see Sam as this towering beast of a man with a mask that was cracked right down the middle. And it was the only time Sammy really got drunk.

When he was vulnerable, thinking about something emotionally intense.

Even now, Dean could see the way Sam handled his body. Smiling in the face of sadness, cracking a joke or two to hide the obvious pain. It reminds Dean of himself. Its a dangerous way to cope... But he would rather Sam not do that. Sam needed to be strong when Dean could not. Always.

Brushing away Sam's comment, Dean pushed himself off the wall, coming into the library. "I'm more of an AC/DC guy, myself."

Sam chuckled, toes touching the floor. It was hard to remember just how _tall_ Sam really was. "Of course you are. Now, tell me, Mr. Winchester, what brings you out of our blessed, marital bed tonight?"

Their martial bed. They're technically not married; not in the conventional way, at least. They were more... well,  _bound_ to each other than married. Regardless, it's usually Dean that teases Sam on this fact.

Dean scoffed, gesturing towards the mess. "Well, for one, you're making a lot of noise in here with the, uh, yodeling and the glass smashing. Partying like a true rockstar, huh?"

Sam felt around the table for the bottle, and drank straight from it. He sat it back down when it was empty, grumbling incoherently about its loss.

"Rockstars are more happier with their lives than I am with mine." Sam spat, mood changing drastically.

Dean could feel the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It was all too familiar to him. He chuckled breathlessly, coming in until he found himself slotted between Sam's legs. Dean put his hands in Sammy's hair, fixing it up from its previous disaster.

"You have a good life," Dean muttered. "With me, Jack, mom--we're doing okay."

Sam looked down at him with half-lidden eyes; his cheeks were pink as well as his nose. The blush from the alcohol made him look 15 years younger, but he still exuded the strength of his current self. Imposing stature, huge hands that Dean wanted all over his body.

"What about the times when we're not okay?" Sam asked quietly. His voice only escalated with each passing example. "What about when mom is trapped in some messed up alternate universe? What about when Jack is kidnapped by his homicidal father? What about when you're hurt? What about when I'm--?"

Sam stopped there.

He couldn't finish, and Dean didn't expect him to. He still hasn't gotten over the years in The Cage with that goddamn monster and his equally horrifying brother. Though their Michael mostly stayed away, it was Lucifer who did most of the torturing.

"The things he did to me in there..." Sam whispered, upper lip curling in hate. His eyes watered as well. "I'll never forget them. That hunt we just did--I don't know why, but it brought out those thoughts again, those memories where I'm just helpless in his grasp. Sometimes I feel like I'm still there, that I'll wake up and it'll be a dream. He's done it before, ya know."

Dean could see Sam going all over the place. He gets emotional and animated when drunk. Dean rubbed Sam's thighs, sighing through his nose.

"You're not in The Cage," said Dean. "And you're never going back there. I can promise you that. Because you're my brother, and I'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you again."

Sam laughed, reaching for the bottle only to remember that he drank it all. "Oh, I've heard that one before."

"Okay, hot stuff, time for bed. You've clearly had enough to drink. I'll clean up the mess later. Let's go, Sasquatch."

Sam jumped down from the table, stumbling on his big feet. Dean caught him, but Sam kept tumbling. In no time, they found themselves on the floor with Dean on top of Sam. They chuckled together, obviously used to such closeness. Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck, humming intently as he squeezed at Dean's rear with both hands.

"Hands off, pervert." Dean chided, only half-serious.

"Little Sammy wants Dee and his D." Sam pouted drunkenly. "Pretty please?"

Dean rolled his eyes, forcefully removing Sam's hands from his body so as to stand. "If you can make it to the bedroom without stumbling again, sure."

"You're on."

Dean extended his hand for Sam who grasped it firmly. Soon enough, he was up on his feet, wobbling like a newborn deer. Dean assisted him up the short stairs and towards their shared bedroom. Unfortunately, Sam lost his end of the bet by the time they reached the door. Because his jeans were unfastened, they fell to his ankles, and he tripped, something Dean felt horrible for laughing at.

Despite his spill, Sam was smiling, making lewd actions at Dean who only continued to help him into the bed.

"I'll get you some aspirin for your head." Dean said. "You're definitely gonna need it in the morning. And don't think I'm holding your hair back for you when you're puking your guts out."

"I'm so happy we're married..." Sam hummed, closing his eyes as his head hit the pillow. "You're a great mom and wife. Still bossy, still short. And you're still gonna hold my hair back..."

Dean shook his head, smirking. Sam was right about that last part, though.

Without a word, Dean exited the bedroom again to head for the bathroom. He looked through the cabinets for the aspirin, shaking out two from the bottle. When he returned to Sam, he found him unconscious on his back, snoring on top of the blankets with his jeans somehow around his ankles again.

Dean thought about Sam trying to wiggle out of them only to give up and fall asleep. And in such a short timeframe, too!

Tired and still in pain from the hunt, Dean sat down the two pills on a napkin on the nightstand near Sam. He climbed into his side of the bed, pushing over Sam's leg that blocked his way. After settling in, Dean sighed, ready to sleep once again.

However, as fate would have it, Sam rolled over, wrapping his arms around Dean's torso like a goddamn octopus.

Dean's eyes shot open, but when he went to scold Sam, he saw how content he looked in his sleep. He knew that he couldn't wake Sam from his sleep looking like that. It would be a sin, and he had already committed so many in his lifetime.

And with that, Dean suffered through a long night of sleepy dry humping and loud snoring, and if it meant Sammy had a good sleep of his own, then he would go through it all again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed It! :D


End file.
